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Of PL71Y:5 



THE HAPPY DAY 



Price, 15 Cents 



Jl. m. Pinero's Plays 

Price, 50 ecnts Eaeb 



THF A M A7nN^ Farce in Three Acts. Seven males, five fe- 
'lilEi /\lfli\£<v/iiiJ males. Costumes, modern; scenery, not 
difficult. Plays a full evening. 

TUr TAniMrT MlfWIQTrD Farce in Four Acts. Ten 
IHL LAoiPILi iTiilXliMLK males, nine females. Cos 
tunies, modern society; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening. 

riANHY nif K" ^^^^® i^ Three Acts. Seven males, four fe- 
1/riliLFl I/lviV males. Costumes, modern ; scenery, two inte- 
riors. Plays two hours and a half. 

Tlir r* AV f nPn rfclTFY Comedy in Four Acts. Four males, 
inC Ui\I LiV/IVU Vlv^l-«A ten females. Costumes, modern; 
scenery, two interiors and an exterior. Plays a full evening. 

I4IC UrbTTQI? IWf riDFlFD Comedy in Four Acts. Nine males, 
mo nUUij£i 111 V/I\LFi:iI\. four females. Costumes, modern; 
scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening. 

TUP linRRV Uni^QF Comedy in Three Acts. Ten males, 
inti nV/DDI nUlViJi:! five females. Costumes, modern; 
scenery easy. Plays two hours and a half. 

|niO Drama in Five Acts. Seven males, seven females. Costumes, 
****0 modern ; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening. 

I Any DAnVTipiTI Play in Four Acts. Eight males, seven 
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I FTTY ^^^^"^^ i^ Four Acts and an Epilogue. Ten males, five 
MaEil I I females. Costumes, modern; scenery complicated. 
Plays a full ^.vening. 

THF MAI^IQTPATF Farce in Three Acts. Twelve males, 
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Sent prepaid on receipt of price by 

Salter J^. ^afeer Sc Company 

No. 5 Hamilton Place, Boston, Massachusetts 



The Happy Day 



A Farce in One Act 



By 
OCTAVIA ROBERTS 



BOSTON 

WALTER H. BAKER & CO. 
•915 



/' 



^. 



The Happy Day 

CHARACTERS 

Mrs. Marlowe, middle-aged and irettv 
Anne Loring. a neighbor "'*i"^^"J'- 

Sybil Marlowe, the bride. 

O^L!^KlT\nr,i7"T^r' "I'^^^^'-^g^d and a little gray. 
Mrs Tatlock '-" ''^^f'^'' f ^^^ "Daily Clarion." ^^ 
Pr.r T,/^ ' "■ '^"""^0' relation. 

Polly Tatlock, her daughter. 




Copyright, 19,5. by Walter H. Baker & Co. 
©CI.D 41143 

Jl/L -"-1/9,5 



The Happy Day 



SCENE. — A well furnished family living-rooniy with one or 
two windows and two doors. There is a small desk on one 
side of the room and a short divan on the other near a table 
on which stand a sewing basket and telephone. 

(Mrs. Marlowe, a pretty ^ middle-aged woman^ is seated on 
the divan running ribbons in lingerie. Anne Loring, a 
young friend and neighbor^ is seated at the desk making 
out a wedding list from a directory.') 

Anne. Abbots. What about the Abbots ? 

Mrs. M. Church. Only Sybil's dearest friends are to be 
invited to the house. 

Anne. The Abercromies ? 

Mrs. M. Hardly ! Not at my daughter's wedding. 

Anne. Adcock. Mrs. Jennie Adcock ? 

Mrs. M. Oh, dear me, I don't know. Sybil doesn't care 
for Nettie Adcock, but Mrs. Adcock is in my church society. 

Anne. Mrs. Adcock will be hurt if you leave her out, Mrs. 
Marlowe, I can tell you that. Only yesterday she was asking 
me to tell her whether I thought Sybil would like a silver 
pitcher or an onyx clock. 

Mrs. M. Dear me, did she ? If we could only ask her 
without including Nettie ! {Sighs.) Well, put them down 
for church and house. Excuse me, Anne, while I ring up 
the florist's. It's hard for me to keep my attention on this list, 
my mind is so distracted. {Telephones.) 481 Main. Is this 
Penn the florist's ? What about the white lilacs for my daugh- 
ter's wedding ? This is Mrs. Marlowe. Through blooming ? 
How's that ? Are you sure ? Have you tried everywhere ? 
Peonies ! They won't do at all. They'd spoil our entire color 
scheme. I'll have to come down and talk it over. I'm too 
upset now to come to any decision. 

Anne. How about the Aldises? (Turns and sees that 
something has happened to ruffle the older lady.) What's the 
matter ? 



4 THE HAPPY DAY 

Mrs. M. Matter ! Penn can't get the lilacs. He says it 
will be too late for them. They're about over. 

Anne. Can't get the lilacs? Why, we've told everyone 
it's to be a lilac wedding. 

Mrs. M. That's what makes it so trying ! A lilac wedding 
without any lilacs ! Who ever heard of anything more ridicu- 
lous ? However, it can't be helped. Let's go on with the 
list. The invitations ought to be here any time. 

Anne. Aliens ? 

Mrs. M. Well 

Anne. Sybil will want George Allen. He's a great friend 
of the doctor's. 

Mrs. M. That's the trouble with marrying a doctor. All 
his patients expect to be invited to the wedding. 

Anne. Where is Sybil, anyway ? It's hard to do much 
without her. 

Mrs. M. I made her stay in bed this morning. She came 
home from the dance last night very much upset over some- 
thing. I could hear her tossing about and crying all night. 

Anne. Crying ! At this happy time, with boxes and boxes 
of new clothes coming home every hour of the day; with 
parties in her honor from morning till night. I'm so happy 
just over the prospect of being maid of honor that I can't 
think of another thing. 

Mrs. M. {sighi7ig). Yes, that's what every one tells her; 
that this is the happiest occasion of her whole life — these days 
before her wedding. Sh ! I hear her coming. (Ibises.) I'll 
go get her chocolate, and you try to find out what has dis- 
turbed her. 

(Mrs. M. leaves the room by one door just as Sybil Marlowe 
enters by the other. Sybil is a pretty young girl^ but she 
looks both tired and troubled,^ 

Anne. Hello, Syb. 

Sybil. Good-morning, Anne. Have the invitations come ? 

Anne. No, but your mother and I have begun the list. 
We are in the A's. 

Sybil. Don't ask Nettie Adcock. Any mail for me? 

Anne. Yes, three notes. Do read them. I can hardly 
wait to see if any one else is to give anything for you. (Sybil 
seats herself on the divan and opens the notes while Anne 
leaves her work at the desk and perches on the arm of the seatp 
her arm around Sybil's neck.^ Anything exciting ? 



THE HAPPY DAY 5 

Sybil {with evident pleasure^, Kitty Dickerson wants to 
give a luncheon for the bridesmaids. Grace Spencer asks us 
for bridge and Mrs. Clark, mother's old friend, wants to give — 
a Tango party, with a dawn breakfast. 

(At this point Sybil's face^ which has been bright and 
happy, becomes clouded. She drops the open note, and 
stares mournfully into space,) 

Anne. How lovely ! What's the matter, Sybil ? Tell your 
old Anne. You never kept anything from me in your life. 

Sybil. Oh, Anne, I'm so unhappy. George and I have 
quarreled. 

Anne. When? Where? When have you had time to 
quarrel ? We've all been on the go so much. 

Sybil. Last night when we were dancing the Castle. He 
said — what do you think he said ? 

Anne. Gracious, Sybil, what? 

Sybil. He said he wouldn't stand for any more of this 
nonsense another day. 

Anne. Nonsense ! What nonsense ? 

Sybil. The entertaining, the dances, the teas and all the 
fun. He said the weaker sex might be able to stand the 
nightly racket, but that no mere man could stand the strain. 
He said 

(Mrs. M.'s entrance with a breakfast tray interrupts the 
girls* confidences,') 

Mrs. M. Here's your chocolate, dearest. Try and get it 
down. Where were we in the list, Anne ? 

Anne. A's. Do you want the Ayers ? 

Sybil. \ No ! 

Mrs. M. ) Yes. 

Sybil. Mother ! The Ayers ! What for ? I never had 
anything to do with them in my life. 

Mrs. M. Mr. Ayers and your father are directors in the same 
bank. We must certainly have the Ayers. 

Sybil. The whole family ? And to the house ? 

Mrs. M. I am afraid so, dear. 

Anne. Ayers, church and house? 

Mrs. M. Church and house. {Pauses uncertainly,) 
Question mark after house. 

{She leaves the room.) 



6 THE HAPPY DAY 

Anne. Then what did he say, Sybil ? 

Sybil. He said that he positively refused to go out again at 
night to any function until after we were married. 

Anne. Sybil ! Not even to the ball our sorority is giving 
to-night ? 

Sybil. Not even to my sorority ball ! He said a surgeon 
owed it to his patients to keep his nerves steady, and I owed it 
to him to keep 7ny nerves steady. (^Lifts her cup to her lips 
with a shaking hand.) And they are steady ! Oh, why is 
chocolate always so hot ? 

Anne. But how do the parties interfere with his patients ? 
He never has an operation before nine a. m., and we've been 
home every night this week before daylight. 

Sybil. That's what I told him, but he wouldn't give in. 
It's a test case, Anne, this dance to-night. If he won't go, I 
won't marry him. I tell you I won't. Were these the only 
letters ? 

Anne. Yes, dear, the only ones. 

Sybil. And he hasn't telephoned ? 

Anne. No, he hasn't telephoned. Nobody has telephoned 
but the reporters. 

Sybil. Oh, the reporters ! They're terrible ! They're 
killing me. Did you tell them that we wished nothing in the 
papers ? 

Anne. Yes ; but they're very persistent. 

(Kitty Fern appears, pushing a sewing machine before her. 
She is a middle aged, gray haired little spinster y 7vith the 
hollow chest of o?ie who has bent over her work for many 
years, A pincushion bristling with pins and needles is 
pinned at her sidcy and a tape measure hangs about her 
neck,) 

Sybil. Who's that? Gracious, how you frightened me ! 

Kitty. Only Kitty Fern, young ladies. Excuse me for in- 
truding, but I was froze out of the sewing-room. 

Sybil. What was the matter with the sewing-room ? 

Kitty. Ma ain't broke it to you then about the furnace? 
{She places her seiving machine at the back of the room, and, 
taking a negligee from a basket that stands on the leaf of the 
machine, she approaches Sybil coaxingly ,) I hate to trouble 
you, pet, but you'll have to let me slip this on. I've got where 
the figure don't do no good. 



THE HAPPY DAY 7 

Sybil. I'm so tired from dancing, I can hardly stand on my 
feet. {She reluctantly rises, and Kitty slips the negligee on^ 
over her dress,) What about the furnace? Go on. 

Kitty. Boiler's busted. 

Sybil. When ? 

Kitty. This morning. We're waiting now on the feller 
who's coming to fix it. This is the only warm room in the 
house. 

Sybil. Mercy, what next ? Will the boiler be all right for 
the wedding ? 

Kitty. 1 can't tell you that. Boilers has a way of busting 
at the wrong time. Turn around, darling. Shall I put a cord 
around the waist, or a ribbon? (Bell rings, ^ 

Sybil. I don't seem to care, Kitty. Tie a piece of carpet 
binding around me if you want to. (Kitty remaves the neg- 
ligie.') Isn't the bell ringing? Why doesn't Nora answer it? 

(Sybil quickly sinks into the chair on which she has been 
leaning from time to time during the fitting, dut Kitty has 
already come forward with still another garment. She 
briskly assists her young mistress to her feet and slips a 
kimono on the drooping figure.) 

Kitty. Haven't they broken it to you yet about Nora? 

Sybil. Mercy, no ! 

Kitty. Left ! Up and left this morning. 

Sybil. Left ! Nora left, just before the wedding ! 

Kitty. That's what she done. {Busy with alterations on 
the kimono,^ Claimed her legs was wore out answering the 
door-bell ; her ears was wore out answering the telephone ; her 
head was wore out trying to remember messages. Turn around, 
pet. I can't see what I'm doin' if you jerk about so. There ! 

{Removes the kimono,) 

Sybil. Thank goodness ! I'm ready to drop. 

(Sybil again sinks into the chair in an attitude of utter 
weariness, her head falling on her breast, her arms hang- 
ing at her sides. From a capacious pocket in her apron 
Kitty draws forth a breakfast cap. She raises the girVs 
head and puts on the cap, trying the effect of ribbons and 
flowers. At this poifit Mrs. M. enters with several boxes 
containing the invitations,) 



8 THE HAPPY DAY 

Mrs. M. Here, girls ! Here's something to cheer us up. 
The invitations have come at last. 
Anne. Good ! 

Sybil. Really ? Are they pretty ? What's the matter ? 
Anne. Mrs. Marlowe ! 
Mrs. M. Gracious, what's happened ? 
Anne. They've made a dreadful mistake. 
Sybil. A mistake ? 

(Sybil tries to turn her head in her mother^ s direction^ but 
Kitty, engrossed in her handiworky holds the girVs head 
rigid y and continues to bedeck the cap.) 

Kitty. Hold your head still, pet. 

Anne. They read ; ''Dr. George Quack " instead of " Dr. 
George Quick." 

Sybil. Quack ! Quack ! What shall we do ? 

Kitty. Never mind. Miss Sybil. Quack sounds real 
pretty, and all your friends who know him will sense his right 
name, and them that don't will never know different. 

Sybil. But Quack for a young doctor, trying to make a 
name for himself. Dr. Quack ! It couldn't be worse. 

Anne. Oh, Sybil, it's dreadful. 

Kitty. 1 knew an undertaker once named Graves, a lawyer 
named Crook and a real smart fellow named Gump. Nobody 
held it against them. You can't help them things. 

Anne. But this is so unnecessary. If Dr. Quick's real 
name was Quack, we might have the grace to bear it; but 
when it's only a careless mistake of the engraver 

Mrs. M. I'll take them back and see what can be done. 
Keep on with the list, Anne. Here's Mrs. Quick's list and 
here's the doctor's. {Shows list,) It's a mile long. Where 
I'm to seat them all, I don't know. {Turns to Sybil.) Sybil, 
dear, you look feverish. Go out in the garden and get some 
air. Anne, go with her for a few minutes, that's a dear. 

(Mrs. M., laden with the invitations^ goes out,) 

Sybil. I believe I will go outdoors, Anne. {Picks up an 
armful of lingerie her mother has left on the divan,) Oh, 
Anne, look at all this lingerie : fifty hand tucks in this piece 
alone ; and all for a man who would rather cut out a stranger's 
appendix than go to the sorority ball I 



THE HAPPY DAY 9 

(Sybil and Anne leave the room, Kitty, left alone ^ sews 
cheerfully on the machine. The clatter prevents her hear- 
ing the entrance of a young woman, in a well tailored 
business suit. The newcomer stares about her, draws a 
chair forward and seats herself with much assurance. 
This is Opal Neff, society reporter of the ^^ Daily 
Clarion.*^) 

Opal. Good-morning. 

Kitty. For the love of Mike ! 

Opal. I rang several times, but no one answered the bell, 
so I took the liberty of coming right in. 

Kitty. You did, did you ? 

Opal. Miss Neff, Opal Naff of the Daily Clarion. I just 
called to ask if I might see some member of the family in order 
to got a few points about the approaching wedding. Anything 
concerning the bride is of interest, wedding gown, going away 
gown, costumes of the wedding party, names and number of 
the bridesmaids, gift of the groom, plans for the honeymoon, 
and so forth. 

Kitty. I am sorry to tell you the family won't see you. 
They won't have one word in the papers. 

Opal. That's all very well to say, but news is news, and 
when a social favorite marries a rising young physician she 
owes it to the public to give the press a few particulars. 

Kitty. Well, you won't get 'em out of me. 

Opal. If you don't care to talk, I wouldn't force you to for 
the world. You don't mind, I suppose, if I sit here for a few 
moments? I got chilled through coming out. The spring 
wind is very sharp. 

Kitty. I can't deny you that right, I suppose, although 
we're all pretty busy around here. 

(She sews up a breadth on the machined) 

Opal. Do you mind telling me who you are ? I'm rather 
intuitive, and I suspect that you're one of the New York 
relatives. 

Kitty {much pleased). Well, did I ever ! {Lets her work 
drop from her hands,) I'm only Kitty Fern, the home dress- 
maker. 

Opal {approaching the machine and examining Kitty's 
work). You're working on the wedding gown, Madame Fern, 
I suppose ? 



lO THE HAPPY DAY 

Kitty. Dear me, no. They wouldn't trust me with that 
job. Madame Celeste is none too good. 

(Opal covertly makes a note of the dressmaker^ s name in a 
little pad she carries in her hand,) 

Opal. Oh, yes. I remember hearing that Madame Celeste 
was to make the trousseau. Does she make the blue charmeuse 
gowns for the nine bridesmaids ? 

Kitty. Blue char moose ! The girls are to wear white 
teffeta, and there are only three of them, two besides Miss 
Anne. 

(Opal makes a note of this information,) 

Opal. Miss Anne ? 

Kitty (clapping her hand over her mouth). I declare ! If 
I didn't almost let the name out. 

Opal (musing). Miss Anne and two others. One is the 
groom's sister, is she not, and the other perhaps a relative of 
the bride ? 

Kitty. The groom's sister you have right enough. 

Opal. Miss Marlowe has no girl cousins ? 

Kitty. Well, there's Polly Tatlock, of course, and Miss 
Sybil's pa held out for her, she bein' his only cousin's daugh- 
ter ; but they downed him, they did, Miss Sybil, Miss Anne 
and Mrs. Marlowe. You see havin' her would have spoiled 
the plan of havin' just the girls who graderated at Ellumwood 
together. 

Opal. I see ! I think I have an Elmwood catalogue. And 
so Miss Polly Tatlock lost out ? 

Kitty. Miss Polly Tatlock lost out. She wouldn't have 
been no ornament, a gawky country girl like her. 

Opal. How did such a fine dressmaker as Madame Celeste 
happen to choose figured foularde for the bride's gown ? 

Kitty. Figured foularde ! It's liberty satin, trimmed with 
point lace. 

(Opal makes another note on her pad,) 

Opal. Is the lace the gift of the groom ? 

Kitty. Certainly not ! Miss Sybil wouldn't take lace from 
her young man. 

Opal. The groom gives nothing at all, then ? How ex- 
traordinary ! 



THE HAPPY DAY II 

Kitty. Nothing ! Do you call a diamond pendant noth- 
ing ? Set in platinum ? 

(Opal makes a note of the groom's gift. Glancing about 
the room J she points to one of the photographs.) 

Opal. The pendant must be very becoming to a girl of this 
type. 

Kitty. That's not Miss Sybil. That's her best friend, 
Miss Anne Loring, next door neighbor. 

Opal (^quickly). And maid of honor, of course. {^Jots 
down the name on her pad.) Then this is Miss Sybil, the girl 
with the violin? {Points to another photograph.) 

Kitty. No, that's just a friend. Miss Sybil don't fiddle. 

Opal. No accomplishments at all ? 

Kitty. No accomplishments ! She dances fairy dances in 
bare feet, she makes fudge and rarebit on the chafing dish, she 
cross-stitches towels, she does everything that a young lady 
needs to do that's about to be married. 

Opal. And she likes dogs ? 

{Points to a picture of a girl with a dog, above the mantel.) 

Kitty. Well, you found her, all right. Pretty picture, 
ain't it, with little Carlo ? 

Opal. Perfectly sweet. Go and ask if I can't have a cut 
made from it, won't you, Madame Fern ? 

Kitty. It won't do no good. 

Opal. Just go to please me, that's a dear. I've come so 
far to get nothing at all. 

(Kitty reluctantly leaves the room, speaking again as she goes.) 

Kitty. I'll go, but it won't do no good. 

{Left alone, Opal springs on a chair and takes down the 
picture. Sybil, in hat and cloak, comes in from the 
garden and surprises her in the act.) 

Sybil. What are you doing? 

Opal {coolly, fro7n her perch on the chair). Who's asking, 
please ? 

Sybil, Sybil Marlowe. What are you doing ? 

Opal. Glad to meet you, Miss Marlowe. Cold out, 
isn't it? 



12 THE HAPPY DAY 

Sybil. What are you doing with my photograph under 
your coat? I know who you are ! You're a reporter ! Give 
me that picture instantly, and leave the house. 

Opal. Take it, then. {^Offers it , but holds on to it, ^ I 
have one in my bag that we can run just as well. 

{She presents a photograph for Sybil's inspection,^ 

Sybil. That's not my picture, that flashy actress. 
Opal. Do you like this better ? 

{Extends a second photograph,) 

Sybil. That dowdy frump ? Certainly not. What are you 
trying to do ? 

Opal. I've been sent here to get a story about the wedding 
and to bring back your picture. If you won't give me one, 
I'll have to use one of these. Should you prefer that I did 
that? 

Sybil. I prefer you to leave me and my private affairs alone. 
I don't care to be in the paper. I won't be spoken of as *' an 
accomplished social favorite." I won't have Dr. Quick writ- 
ten up as a ^* rising young surgeon, a favorite of the younger 
set." I won't 

Opal. Say, you've got a temper, haven't you? Cool 
down, and I'll tell you something. You can't get married and 
keep out of the papers ; and if you're going to be in, you want 
to be in right. Would you like it any better if I spoke of you 
as a social lemon, and your young man as a business dub? Of 
course you wouldn't. When you come up against the press, 
you might as well hold up your hands and be agreeable. Did 
you say I could have the picture ? 

Sybil. Take it ! Take it ! Only go. I did think I might 
have a quiet little wedding, the way I wanted it, without any 
publicity ; but I see I shall not be allowed to do so. 

{She throws herself on the couch and buries her head in the 
pillows,) 

Opal. You're asking a good deal. Very few people can 
consult their own wishes when it comes to getting married — or 
buried. Thank you for the picture. 

(Kitty e7iters. Without noticing Sybil she addresses the 
reporter,) 



THE HAPPY DAY 1 3 

Kitty. I couldn't find her. She wouldn't of let you have 
it anyway. And now you'll really have to be going. If 1 let 
fall anything I should not have done, I hope you'll keep it to 
yourself. 

Opal. Oh, certainly. Anything confided to a reporter is 
always strictly confidential. Good-morning. 

(Opal withdraws as easily as she enter ed, Yaity following 
in her wake^ to prevent any possible return. Anne, in 
hat and coat, runs in excitedly from the garden and ad- 
dresses Sybil reproachfully,^ 

Anne. Why did you run away when Dr. Quick came into 
the garden ? You certainly didn't think he wanted to talk 
to me. 

Sybil. Why should I stay? He certainly can't pretend to 
care anything about me after the way he has acted about the 
sorority ball. 

Anne. You'd think he cared about you, if you could see 
the way he's pacing about the garden, trampling on the tulips. 

Sybil. Think how he's made me suffer. I didn't sleep one 
wink all night. 

Anne. You raiay not have slept, but you ate. You drank 
your chocolate, for I saw you. Dr. Quick hasn't eaten one 
mouthful since your row, and he was so upset this morning he 
very nearly amputated a perfectly good leg. 

Sybil. Did he take back what he said about not going to 
any more parties ? 

Anne. Take it back ? He said it all over again. 

Sybil. What does he expect me to do ? 

Anne. He wants you to come out this very minute and 
take a little spin in his car. 

Sybil. What for ? Pleasure ? 

Anne. To talk it all over. He says he can't believe you 
are going to put a dance before your own health and his pro- 
fession. 

Sybil. That's his way of putting it. Suppose I don't speak 
to him until he gives in ? 

Anne. You've got to, Syb. He gives you just ten minutes 
to make up your mind. He's in his car now, and he says if 
you don't come the third time he blows the horn, he'll drive 
off for good and all. 

Sybil. Let him for all I care ! 



14 THE HAPPY DAY 

(-4/ this point Mrs. M., in bonnet and coat y appears in the 
room in great agitation. The girls run forward to her 
assistance and help her into a chair. In their preoccupa- 
tion ^ neither of them notice the first long honk of the doc- 
tor's horn.) 

Mrs. M. Oh, girls ! 

Girls. What's the matter? 

Mrs. M. Help me off with my things. I feel as if I were 
about to faint. 

Sybil. Mother ! What has happened ? 

Mrs. M. Oh, Tve had such a time. 

Anne. Couldn't they correct the mistake in the invitations ? 

Mrs. M. I don't know. I think so. I've forgotten what 
they said. I've had such an unpleasant encounter. 

Anne. Encounter ? Who with ? 

Sybil. Not George ? 

Mrs. M. My husband's cousin, Mrs. Tatlock. I met her 
in front of the interurban station, where she attacked me. She 
really was violent. She drew a crowd. 

Sybil. Attacked you, mother ? What about ? 

Anne. What about, Mrs. Marlowe ? 

Mrs. M. About Polly. About not asking her daughter 
Polly to be a bridesmaid. She said — but what didn't she say? 

Anne. What could she say? 

Mrs. M. That Polly had looked forward to being brides- 
maid ; that Polly was your only cousin in Redwood County ; 
that Polly was as good as you were, even if she did live in the 
country. It was terrible. 

Anne. What did you do ? 

Mrs. M. I tried to calm her down. Finally I got her to 
promise to come up here and let me explain. 

(^No one notices second long blast of horn.) 

Sybil. But there's nothing to explain. I didn't want her. 
I never had anything to do with her in my life. 

Mrs. M. That's just what I want you to tell her, Sybil, 
when she comes. 

Sybil. I? Oh, mother! You don't expect me to talk to 
her, do you ? 

Anne. Is she really coming here ? 

Mrs. M. She'll be here any minute. Who's that on the 
porch now ? 



THE HAPPY DAY 1$ 

Anne (going to the window), A middle-aged woman, with 
a fish net shopping bag, and a tall girl. She's glowering up at 
the window. 

{Bell rings violently.) 

Sybil. Mother ! I can't see her. I can't any way in the 
world. My nerves are all on edge now. 

Mrs. M. What shall I tell her ? 

Sybil. Tell her anything. Tell her I'm sick. Tell her 
I'm dead, but don't tell her I'm hiding in the garden. 

(Sybil catches up her hat and cloak and rushes out of the 
room. The third long honk of the horn is heard just as 
she disappears,) 

Anne. Hadn't I better go with her, Mrs. Marlowe? 

(JBell rings again,) 

Mrs. M. No, no, Anne, don't leave me. Your presence 
may be a check upon her. Do stay. 

Kitty {appearing in the doorway). Mis' Marlowe, vis'ters. 

(Kitty makes way for Mrs. Tatlock and Polly Tax- 
lock. Mrs. T. is a belligerent looking woman of the 
respectable village type. She wears a bonnet^ dolman and 

full skirt, Polly is gotten up for the visit to town in a 
stiffly starched white frock, a coat to a street suit, and a 
white lace hat nodding with flowers. She carries an 
ample bundle. Throughout the interview that follows 
Polly speaks no word, but shows her state of mind by 

facial expression and posture,) 

Mrs. T. {addressing Mrs. M.). Well, Letty, accordin' to 
promise, we're here, though I had a hard enough time to get 
Polly to cross the threshold of this house, slighted as she's 
been, by her only cousin in Redwood County. 

Mrs. M. {with forced composure). Take off your bonnet, 
Cousin Sally, and we'll talk it all over. How do you do, 
Polly? I don't know when I've seen you looking so well. 
May I introduce Miss Loring, our friend and next door 
neighbor ? 

Mrs. T. You good enough to be included in this weddin* 
party ? 



l6 THE HAPPY DAY 

Anne. Good enough is hardly the word, Mrs. Tatlock. 
I'm in the wedding party because Sybil and I have been 
friends ever since the day we first found a hole in the fence 
that separates our gardens. 

Mrs. T. Well, we've no hole in the fence around the 
farm, but the gate, a good patent gate, has been large enough 
for the whole Marlowe family to drive through many a time — 
in fried chicken season. 

Mrs. M. Mrs. Tatlock ! Sally ! You are really insulting. 
You surely don't mean to insinuate that we stopped at the 
farm with fried chicken in mind ? 

Mrs. T. I can't say. All I know is, you seemed to enjoy 
the chicken, sellin' at thirty-two cents the pound, first rate; 
and that Polly here was considered good enough to cook 'em, 
and good enough to jump up from the table to change the 
plates, in the stylish way you were used to ; good enough to 
wash the dishes after you ; good enough 

Mrs. M. Cousin Sally ! You are really going too far. 

Mrs. T. Good enough to do anything, except rank as an 
equal and stand up with her stylish cousin when it come to 
gettin' married. 

Mrs. M. Cousin Sally, I'm very sorry you are taking it in 
this way. We didn't dream Polly would care to be one of the 
maids. 

Mrs. T. Care ! (^Exchanges glances with Polly.) She 
doesn't care anything about it. Polly has plenty goin' on. 
What with the Redwood Neighborhood Club and the Mis- 
sionary Society, she has enough to do without pushing in where 
she isn't wanted. It's the slight that's hurting her. It's havin' 
to tell the neighbors she ain't to be a bridesmaid after all. 

Mrs. M. The neighbors ? Why should the neighbors have 
supposed she was to be in the party ? 

Mrs. T. Why, everybody on our party line heard me tell 
Mrs. Reverend Jones that Sybil was goin' to have a stylish 
weddin' and that likely as not she'd be askin' Polly to stand 
up with her. Warn't that so, Polly? 

Anne. You see, Mrs. Tatlock, Sybil is just having the 
three girls who graduated with her at Elmwood Seminary. We 
had a kind of wager among us that the one who married first 
should have the other three for bridesmaids. 

Mrs. T. Never said anything to you, I suppose, about the 
wager her pa made when he was a boy workin' on our farm, 
did she ? A wager on a horse race that he lost and my hus- 



THE HAPPY DAY 1 7 

band lent him the money to pay. Or wam't that the kind of 
wager to linger in the memory ? 

Mrs. M. Cousin Sally ! My husband has paid you that 
paltry sum a hundred times over. 

Mrs. T. Paltry sum, was it ! It took him long enough to 
get around to payin' it — and we land poor as we've been. 

Mrs. M. Of course you've been land poor, Cousin Sally. 
We've realized that, and for that reason we did not ask Polly 
to buy an extravagant gown which she could never use again. 

Anne. Yes, indeed, Mrs. Tatlock. The gowns cost over a 
hundred dollars, without gloves, slippers or stockings. 

Mrs. T. What they made out of? 

Anne. White satin. 

Mrs. M. With lace overdresses. 

Anne. The sashes embroidered in silver. 

Mrs. T. I've got a good white silk dress, laid away in 
camphor, as good as new, belonged to Mr. Tatlock' s sister, she 
that died of smallpox in '88. It would cut over real pretty for 
Polly. Miss Crummy, our dressmaker, was sayin' only yester- 
day how nice she could make it up. She wanted to try an 
idee out of her own head of ketchin' up the material on one 
knee with one of these here cor-sage bouquets. Sound pretty 
to you ? 

Anne. That certainly is original. 

Mrs. M. Cousin Sally, I'm sorry that you feel as you do 
about this matter. If I'd known your feelings before, some- 
thing might have been done, but now it's too late. 

Mrs. T. Too late ? How's that ? 

Mrs. M. 1 ,r , , 

Anne. } ^^^ see-why-why 

Anne {with sudden inspiration). You see there's no one 
left for Polly to walk in with. 

Mrs. T. Who's your company? 

Anne. I'm maid of honor, so I walk alone. Ruth and 
Martha come together. 

Mrs. T. What's to hinder you and Polly walkin' two 
abreast ? No law against it, is there ? 

Mrs. M. There's everything against it, Sally. They'd look 
ridiculous. They're not the same size. 

Mrs. T. Stand up, Polly, alongside of Miss Loring. (Polly 
edges up to the shrinking Anne.) Looks well enough to me. 

Mrs. M. No, no, it would never do. They look absurd 
together. 



l8 THE HAPPY DAY 

Mrs. T. Look enough sight better than that sorrel and bay 
your pa used to drive when he peddled tins. 

Mrs. M. My father, General Pompineau, peddle tins ! Ped- 
dle tins, Sally Tatlock ! What do you mean ? 

Mrs. T. Sure he did. Haven't you heard me say so, 
Polly ? Fve heard my mother tell about it a hundred times. 
She bought a kittle from him- — to encourage him. 

Mrs. M. Sally Tatlock, you have gone too far. Tve borne 
with you and your mischief making ever since I was married. 
Vve listened to your tales, with their variations, for the last 
time. 

Mrs. T. Variations ! Do you mean to insinuate, Letty 
Marlowe, you that never darken the door of a church from one 
end of the year to the other, that the pillar of the First Church 
in Bird City tells falsehoods ? 

Mrs. M. Never darken a church, Sally Tatlock? How 
dare you say that of me, when you know that nothing but my 
poor health keeps me from being in the pew I pay for every 
Sunday of the world. 

Mrs. T. Do you pay for it ? You've a name for lettin* 
your bills go ! 

Mrs. M. Letting my bills go ! 

Mrs. T. 1 hat's your reputation. My husband told Frank 
Marlowe, when he married you, that he'd never be able to lay 
by a red cent. 

Mrs. M. Lay by a red cent ! If we haven't, it's because 
we've spent so much money on Sybil's education and dancing 
lessons. If your husband had made sacrifices to give Polly ac- 
complishments 

Mrs. T. So that's it, is it? Polly isn't accomplished! 
Perhaps she can't kick about barefoot in the shameless way of 
some. Perhaps not; but not accomplished — look at this. 
(She unwraps Polly's bundle and brings forth a crazy quilt. ^ 
Every stitch her own work. A quilt that took first premium at 
the Redwood County Fair. Show your ribbon, Polly. (Polly 
shows blue ribbon.^ What have you got to say to this ? Mebbe 
you'd like to know she was plannin' to give it to Sybil for a 
weddin' present, if things had been different ; but now she 
won't get it. Wrap it up, Polly. She won't even get to see it. 
She won't even get to see us, for we won't be at the weddin'. 
If any one asks why, tell 'em it's because we ain't accomplished 
enough to be in the company of folks that got their start ped- 
dlin' tins for a livin'. 



THE HAPPY DAY I9 

Mrs. M. {hysterically). Leave the house ! Leave the 
house ! I can bear no more. 

{Just as the Tatlocks turn to leave, Kitty bursts into the 
room, carrying a large box,) 

Kitty. Mis' Marlowe, here's news for you. 

Mrs. M. News ! News ! What kmd of news? 

Kitty. Miss Ruth Lidgate can't be in the weddin' party. 
She just got news her grandma's dead. She sent her dress, to 
use as you see fit. 

Mrs. T. Open the box. Let's have a look at it. 

Mrs. M. Don't open it. Don't open it, Kitty. I'm sure 
it would never do in the world. 

Mrs. T. For who ? Out with it. 

Mrs. M. For anybody. For nobody. I don't know what 
I'm saying. My nerves are all gone. 

Mrs. T. Letty Marlowe, you and me have been cousins by 
marriage for nearly twenty-five years. Barrin' some spats, 
we've been, on the whole, pretty good friends all that time ; 
but our friendship stands or falls now. You let Polly try on 
this dress. If it fits her, you leave her be bridesmaid. If it don't, 
I won't say another word, and we'll come to the weddin* 
peaceful. 

Mrs. M. Oh, Anne, what shall I do? 

Anne. What can you do ? 

Mrs. M. {to Mrs. T.). Yes, yes, I'll leave it that way ; 
but poor little Sybil. I did so want her to have everything her 
own way. 

Mrs. T. Open the box, Polly. 

{Before Polly has more than taken the box in her arms, 
Sybil rushes into the midst of the little group. By one 
hand she draws the laughing doctor in her wake ; in the 
other she flourishes a bouquet.) 

Sybil. Mother ! Anne ! Everybody ! 
Mrs. M. Sybil ! What's happened ? 
Sybil. I'm the happiest girl in the world ! I feel like a 
bird. I feel like a kite. I feel like an airship. 
Anne. Sybil, are you crazy ? 
Sybil. It's all over ! I'm married ! 
Mrs. M. Married ! What a relief ! 
Anne. Married ! Without me ? 



20 THE HAPPY DAY 

Mrs. T. You don't mean it. 

Sybil. It's true ! It's true ! No more quarreling, nor 
worrying, nor trying on clothes. When I started for the gar- 
den I ran straight into George. He picked me up in his arms, 
put me in the machine, drove me up to the little church on the 
hill, and married me. We're leaving this very minute. We're 
going to the country for two long weeks of rest. 



CURTAIN 



New Entertainments 



OUR CHURCH FAIR 

A Farcical Entertainment in Two Acts 

By Jessie A. Kelley 

Twelve females. Costumes modern ; scenery unimportant Plays aig 

fiour and a quarter. A humorous picture of the planning of the annual 

church fair by the ladies of the sewing circle. Full of local hits and 

general human nature, and a sure laugh-producer in any communityc 

Can be recommended. 

Pricey 23 cents 

CHARACTERS 

Mrs. Roberts, who wants to be Mrs. Lawson, plump. 

president, Mrs. Brown, anxious to get nem 
Mrs. Henry, youngs giddy ^ church attendants. 

fond of novels. Mrs. Addison, very inquisitivem 

Mrs. Jackson, the president of Mrs. Ridgely, sensitive. 

the society. Mrs. Otis, on the dinner coM'^ 
Mrs. Brett, on the dinner com* mittee. 

mittee. Mrs. Tnouvso^y decidedly clcstm 

Mrs. Lewis, the minister's wife. Mrs. Drew, just married^ 

THE RIVAL CHOIRS 

An Entertainment in One Scene 

By Sherman F. Johnson 

Seven males, four females. Costumes eccentric ; scenery unimportant. 
Plays one hour. A novelty in musical entertainments, introducing the 
old choir and the new in competition, A novel setting for a concert, 
offering an interesting contrast between the old music and the new. Lots 
of incidental fun, character and human nature. Sure to please. Origi- 
nally produced in Meriden, Conn. 

Price, 2S cents 

A THIEF IN THE HOUSE 

A Comedy in One Act 

By R. M. Robinson 

Six males, one pJaylag a female character (colored). Costumes modem ^ 
scenery, an interior. Plays forty-five minutes. A first-class play for maU 
ckaracters only, <rf strong dramatic interest with plenty of comedy. A plaqf 
that can be recommended, in spite of its lack of female characters, to any 
ladienee. 

Price, 2jl cenis 



Popular Plays 



THE COUNTRY MINISTER 

A Comedy Drama in Five Acts 
By Arthur Lewis Tubbs 
^g;ht males, five females. Costumes, modem ; scenery not difficult. 
Plays a full evening. A very sympathetic piece, of powerful dramatic in- 
terest; strong and varied comedy relieves the serious plot. Ralph Un« 
derwood, the minister, is a great part, and Roxy a strong soubrette ; all 
parts are good axid full of opportunity. Clean, bright and strongly recoir. 
mended. Price, 2j cents 

THE TEASER 

A Rural Comedy in Three Acts 

By Charles S. Allen 
Four male, three female characters. Scene, an easy interior, the same 
for all three acts ; costumes, modem. Plays an hour and a half. An ad- 
mirable play for amateurs, very easy to get up, and very effective. Uraliah 
Higgins, a country postman, and Drusilla Todd are capital comedy parts, 
introducing songs or specialties, if desired. Plenty of incidental fun. 
Price, 25 cents 

THE HERO OF THE GRIDIRON 

A College Comedy in Five Acts 

By Estelle Cook 

Nine male, four^female characters and supernumeraries. Costumes, 

mode»-o ; scenery, easy interiors and exteriors, not essential. Plays about 

^wo hours. A successful farce suited to co-educational and other colleges ; 

very easy and remarkably effective in performance. Can be played only 

on payment of a royalty of ^5.00 for each performance to the author. 

Price, 25 cents 

MOSE 

A Comedy in Three Acts 

By a W. Miles 
Eleven males, ten females. Scenery, two interiors ; costumes, modern^ 
Plays an hour and a half. A lively college farce, full of the true college 
spirit. Its cast is large, but many of the parts are small and incidental. 
Introduces a good deal of singing, which will serve to lengthen the per- 
formance. The inevitable football is an element of its story, but its 
strongest dramatic interest does not depend upon this. Recommended 
highly for co-educational colleges. 

Pricey 15 cents 

Sent, post-paid, on receipt of price, by 

RAKER, 5 Hamilton Place, Boston, Mass* 



New Plays 



THE SAWDUST QUEEN 

A Comedy Drama in Three Acts 

By Dana J, Stevens 
Author of ^' Plain People,'' ^* Old Acre Folk;' etc, 
^x males, five females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, two interiors 
Plays a full evening. A play of circus life, very picturesque and effective 
find not difficult to get up. Unusually rich in character parts and comedy^ 
Soubrette lead; ladies' parts especially strong. Can be recommendedc 
Free for amateur performance. Price^ 2^ cents, 

CHARACTERS 

Deacon Matthew Sterling. 

Ned Sterling, his son. 

Miss Prudence Prue, 1 

Miss Patricia Prossitt, V three maiden ladUs, his cousins. 

Miss Patience Prouty, ) 

Mr. Silas Hankum, his solicitor, 

Adanirum George Washington Hobbes, proprietor of **77iM 

Great Forever Circus ** 
ToNEY O'Hara, an old clown. 

The Herr Professor, acrobat and flying trapeze man. 
HuLDA Schwartz, strong lady and snake charmer. 
Starlight, the sawdust queen, 

SYNOPSIS 

Act I. — Inside the dressing tent of "The Great Forever 
Circus.** 

Act II. — Three days later. The living room in the Sterling 
homestead. 

Act III. — Several days later. Inside the dressing tent again. 

THE SUMMERVILLE BAZAR 

An Entertainment in One Act 
By Frank Towslee 
Twenty-one males, thirty-one females are called for, but this numbeaf 
can be greatly reduced by " doubling " or by curtailing the length of the 
entertainment. No scenery required ; costumes, modern. Plays about an 
hour with specialties introduced when called for. This is a humorous 
picture of a church sale, depending upon its characters and incidents, 
which are home thrusts in almost any community, for its success. It ends 
with a sale by auction which may be made a real one, if desired, to actu- 
ally end up a fair. This entertainment will serve as an admirable frame 
for a vaudeville entertainment, being designed to introduce songs, dances 
OT recitations at intervals in its action, but may be played wholly without 
them, as a straight entertainment, if it is preferred. Price^ 2^ cenU. 



New Plays 



RED ACRE FARM 

A Rural Comedy Drama in Three Acts 

By Gordan K May 

Author of **Bar Haven,"' ** At Random Run,"' etc. 

Seven males, five females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, one interior^ 

Dne exterior. Plays two hours. An easy and entertaining play with a 

well-balanced cast of characters. The story is strong and sympathetic and 

the comedy element varied and amusing. Barnaby Strutt is a great part 

for a good comedian ; " Junior " a close second. Strongly recommended. 

Price t 2^ cents 

CHARACTERS 
JosiAH Armstrong, the owner of Red Acre Fann. 
Colonel Barnaby Strutt, ''Crawling Codwollopers^'* 
Jonah Jones, a farm helper. 
Squire Harcourt, who holds a mortgage. 
Harry Harcourt, his profligate son. 
Dick Randall, who seeks his fortune. 
Tom Busby, a traveling merchant, 
Amanda Armstrong, Josiah's wife. 
Nellie Armstrong, driven from home. 
Laura Armstrong, a poor, weak sinner. 
Mrs. Barnaby Strutt, the Colonel's wife. 
"• Junior," adopted daughter of the Strutts. 

SYNOPSIS 
Act I. — Living-room of Armstrong's home. Spring. 
Act n. — Garden in front of Armstrong's home. Summer, 
Act in. — Same as Act I. Winter. 

THE SPEED LIMIT 

A Sketch in Two Scenes 
By Ernest M. Gould 

Five males. Costumes, modern ; scenery, unnecessary. Plays twenty 
minutes. A good-natured and effective skit on automobiling, very funny 
ztnd very easy to get up. It requires no scenery or stage, but can be done 
on a platform just as well. Its fun is extravagant, but it is otherwise 
suited for school performance. Price, 75 cents 

" WILLIAM " 

A Farce in One Act 
By W. C. Parker 

Two males, two females. Costumes, modern; scene, an interior^ 
Plays twenty minutes. A brisk little piece of the vaudeville order, easy 
and full of laughs. All three ]:)arts are good ; strongly recommended 

P*v:^.- /5 cents 



J1. 01* Pinero's Plays 

Price, 50 0e Its Cacb 



IVIin THANNFI Play in Four Acts. Six males, five females. 
»»*I*-''V/rii\lllil-iLi Costumes, modern; scenery, three interiors. 
Plays two and a half hours. 

THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH £^?r^ '^i^^Tt 

males, frve females. Costumes, modern; scenery, all interiors. 
Plays a full evening. 

flip PPnFIir'ATF Play in Four Acts. Seven males, five 
* "*^ * I\v/r Liivlrl i £f females. Scenery, three interiors, rather 
elaborate ; costumes, modern. Plays a full evening. 

THF QPHfini MTQTPFQQ Farce in Three Acts. Nine males, 
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THE SECOND MRS. TANQUERAY ^lirlZsXe 

females. Costumes, modern; scenery, three interiors. Plays a 
full evening. 

QWFF'T I AVFWnFP Comedyin Three Acts. Seven males, 
%J Tf tiE. I Lil\ Y iJill/LiIV four females. Scene, a single interior, 
costumes, modern. Plays a full evening. 

THF THTTWnFPRni T Comedv in Four Acts. Ten males, 
inCi inUill/LiIVDV/Lii nine females. Scenery, three interi- 
ors; costumes, modern. Plays a full evening. 

THF TIMFS Comedy in Four Acts. Six males, seven females. 



a full evening. 



a. a single interior ; costumes, modern. Plays 



THF WFAI^FR QFY Comedyin Three Acts. Eight males, 
lll£i Tf £iil.IV.£iI\ ij£iA eight females. Costumes, modern; 
scenery, two interiors. Plays ^ full evening. 

A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE r?^\iales, four females! 
Costumes, modern; scene, a single interior. Plays a full evening. 



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AS Ton I IlfF IT Co°^®<iy ^ ^^^ Acts. Thirteen males, four 
AO IvU Ltlitf It females. Costumes, picturesque ; scenery, va- 
ried. Plays a full evening. 

rAMITTF I^rama in Five Acts. Nine males, five females. Cos- 
X^AailLtLtL tumes, modern ; scenery, varied. Plays a full evening. 

INfiOMAR I*l3-y in Five Acts. Thirteen males, three females. 
lilUvITiiiA Scenery varied ; costumes, Greek. Plays a full evening. 

MAPY STIIADT Tragedy in Five Acts. Thirteen males, four fe- 
lTlill\l JIUAAl males, and supernumeraries. Costumes, of the 
period ; scenery, varied and elaborate. Plays a full evening. 

THE MERCHANT OF VENICE SXt?i!?el7e1nl?e1: hllt^^t^. 

picturesque ; scenery varied. Plays a' full evening. 

DIf HFI IFFl ^^^y ^^ ^^^e Acts. Fifteen males, two females. Scen- 
l\lVUl4rL<lL«U ery elaborate ; costumes of the period. Plays a full 
evening. 

THF DIVAT S Comedy in Five Acts. Nine males, five females. 
Ililr AlTALriJ Scenery varied; costumes of the period. Plays a 
full evening. 

SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER SXt« ffJa^encen^/rvt 

rled ; costumes of the period. Plays a full evening. 

TWEFTB NlfiflT; OR, WBAT YOU WILL l^Z'^^uI^Z 

three females. Costumes, picturesque ; scenery, varied. Plays a 
fall evening. 



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